


One Shot, One Kill

by AngstForAll



Series: Voltron: Legendary Defenders [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-05 14:24:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11015220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngstForAll/pseuds/AngstForAll
Summary: Keith Kogane is a highly trained assassin, who underwent an experiment to steal away any remain emotions. It worked... or that is what he believes. Ever since than, Keith has not had any problems with an jobs that Shiro gives. As soon as he gets his chance, he pulls the trigger and watches the person crumble to the ground. But he might have met his match when he is ordered to kill Lance McClain, who is as spontaneous as he is annoying. What will happen when Keith Kogane, the man who has never miss a shot, finally does?





	1. New Target

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction, and I do not know if it will be good. However, I am willing to try, if you bear with me.

Keith Kogane had an a dangerous and frightening job, to the public, but he didn't feel a shred of fear every time he got up and headed to the HQ. There was two reasons why he wasn't fearful of going around and killing people, while hidden on top of a roof top.

One: Keith is used to it. This has been his life for years and years. He had to join up when he was only eight years old due to being abandoned. Even as a kid, he knew that he has to get money or he'd starve. The Galra organization was uneasy about taking in a child--a _literal_ child--but he showed promise, and was accepted in.

Two: Keith can't feel anything anymore. He can't feel happiness, anger, or sadness. The extent to his emotions now is minimal disgust or annoyance, if even that. Everyone at the Galra, once their turn sixteen, has to go through the Emotion Wipe process. Their reasoning is that,  _"Emotions get in the way of business. If you're hired to kill a woman, she's holding her daughter's hand, you might hesitate. You might think, 'I can't do this. I can't let a child watch her own mother die. It's inhumane.' Which, it is. It is a sick, cruel thing to do but it is your job. We've decided it would be... easier done this way. No emotions equal no remorse for your victims."_

Keith had no problem this process. Emotions never did anything good for him in the past, anyway. It made him feel sad because his mother died and his father ran away from home. It made him want to be able to go around and make a friend. And the worst of all, it made him long for a lover. Keith was glad to get rid of that longing, it got in the way of work and his sleep. The nights it got too bad for him to hand, he went to Shiro.

It was awkward for Keith, a flimsy fourteen year old, laying in an adult's arms who clearly didn't want to be cuddling someone. Keith was lucky enough that Shiro went along with it, or else he might've gone crazy for the longing. Deep down, Keith fears that it might still be there.

Waiting to bite at him. To taunt him. "You thought you could escape me?" It would ask, in a cruel voice. "Well, that's not true. You're going to suffer, and suffer, and suffer..."

Keith bit his lip hard, bringing himself back to reality. The pain always made Keith focus, but it has turned into a bad habit. His lips are slightly scarred from him biting and chewing them all day long, just to focus. 

* * *

 

"Keith, I thought you may never arrive." Said a familiar voice, Shiro. He was holding a fresh and new folder that had someone's name on it.  _His next victim._ "Lance McClain, that's who you're killing today. If you can get the job done--which you will--you'll get about $25,000. Whoever wants him ready really want him dead." Shiro said, his voice betraying no hints of emotion.

Keith just nodded and grabbed the folder out of his hands, opening it up. There was a basic description of this Lance tapped to it, with some photos of him. _He might be Spanish, due to his skin tone_ , Keith decided mentally. Taking an attempt to figure out how he might act. Keith was usually spot on with personalities. 

"Who hired him to be shot dead?" Keith asked after he read through the folder, looking up Shiro. The man let out a laugh, but it was forced and had no emotion to it. "What? Was it anonymous?"

Shiro shook his head. "It was anonymous, but one of our hackers figured out their name. Sendak. A big supporter of ours, I hear. That's probably why he gave us so much money for this job. Sorry--that's why he gave  _you_ so much money for this job. Most likely was his own way of donating."

Keith just nodded in response. He knew who Sendak was. He knew that he tried to join the Galra, and ultimately chickened out at that Emotion Wipe process. He lives near HQ, and is constantly monitored. The deal was that if he keeps on paying for jobs to be done, he'll be left alone. Perhaps Shiro hasn't heard about that, which doesn't surprise Keith. Keith didn't even try to figure it out, he was just looking through folders and found Sendak's name.

Keith pulled the gun off of his back and stared down its beauty. He was going to enjoy this, getting to hear his gun fire again. Shiro could tell his joy and nodded. "Go right ahead," Shiro told him. "The job won't finish itself." Keith couldn't agree more.

Keith turned and thought to himself,  _new target, Lance McClain. I'm coming for you, and you won't even know what hit you._


	2. Lance McClain

Lance stepped into the worker's bathroom, smoothing back his sweat slicked hair. He took a glance in the mirror and smirked at his reflection, even after hours of long work, he still looked incredibly handsome. The sweat droplets on his forehead didn't seem to exist at all, all Lance could see was his stunning eyes and his fluffy-- _but sweaty--_ hair. The McClain family had a flawless set of genetics.

Quietly, he turned on the facet and ran cold water. His shift was almost over, and then he could head home. His older brothers would finish up and close the cafe for him, since Lance wasn't quite ready to do that. He was freaked out about staying out around night when any type of freak could come out. His biggest fear is being mugged or killed heading home after a long day at the Gran Haba cafe. It was a family tradition to work at the cafe, and to take it as your final job when you were old enough, but Lance didn't see it in his future.

The cold water startled him out of his depressing and heavy thoughts, and he splashed it over his face. He shivered and grabbed a paper towel to wipe it off. Every once and while, Lance did this to keep his thoughts steady. It is common for him to get distracted while meeting many attractive males and females.

"Only thirty more hours, Lance," he said to himself in the mirror, wiping his slightly wet cheeks. "After that, you can go home and see mama and papa. Puedes hacerlo." Lance said confidently, before throwing away the wet paper towel and turning towards the door again. 

The cafe wasn't low budget, and they had the fancy foot opening function for when worker's washed their hand, they wouldn't have to touch the handle. It was his mother's idea, and his father personally installed it. The McClain family were great workers when they all worked together, and that's why they have had the cafe for so long. The first day it opened it was the earlier 1950's.

However, the cafe has only gotten more crazy from then on. As soon as Lance stepped out of the worker's bathroom and showed his face to his brothers, they shouted for him to come over. 

"Lance! We need two long blacks, three flat whites, and one caffé americano." His older brother, Henry, told him. He was the oldest of the family, and had freckles all over his face. Their grandmother said that all those freckles came from the angels kissing his big, fat baby cheeks. Henry always gets embarrassed by that story.

"Right away, Henry!" Lance responded, tightening his apron and walking to the kitchen. Daniel, his second older brother, was already making muffins and cookies for customer's. Daniel has always been rough around the edges, since he didn't get much of their mother's or their father's genetic. Some people used to joke around with Daniel and say that he was adopted.

To put it simply, nobody in the McClain family found that funny. Especially not Daniel, who was sensitive about his looks already.

"See any cute guys while I was away?" Lance asked, starting up on the three flat whites. Lance, whenever he was done with work, smelled like coffee beans and uses that to his advantage while flirting. Surprisingly, many boys and girls enjoy the small of coffee. Lance has marks to back that up, too.

Daniel pressed his lips hard together, in an attempt to hide his smile. Even though he wasn't the oldest in the family, he always pretended to be. Acting as the father of all of his siblings, and making sure they aren't cutting off each other's head. Lance always enjoyed seeing his hard shell crack and always did his best to make him cheer up from his heavy burdens.

"No, no cute boys. Unless you want to count Matt." Daniel said casually, taking a glance at Lance. In the past, Lance had a small crush on Matt, but eventually felt weird for it once he started to consider Katie his own sister. "Even then, he looked exhausted. He asked for a little 'kick' in his coffee." Daniel told him.

A little 'kick' is a secret code used with Lance's friends and family when they want an energy drink put in their coffee. Is it wrong? Probably. Are they going to stop? No.

"Well, I'll tell him hi on the way out." Lance said as he finished the flat whites. His watch beeped and that was the final signal that his shift was over. 

"See you at home, Danny." Lance said, hanging up his apron. "Bye, Henny!" He yelled to Henry, before running out the back, slipping on his jacket.

* * *

 

Keith slipped on his dark purple suit, and fixed his eye gear. No emotion set on his face as he got set up on the roof. The cafe was the location where to find his target. Keith just tracked down the address and went after him.

It didn't take Keith long to get situated on the roof. Keith grappled up on the roof effortlessly, and set up the stand for his sniper rifle. The sights were set up to point at the back door, which is where Keith assumed Lance would come out of. He was now waiting for his target to walk out, and he was getting rather impatient with it.

His finger was resting on the trigger. As soon as Keith would get his chance, he'd pull it.  ~~Monster.~~

Keith felt no remorse for his target's family. He couldn't physically feel the remorse. All he felt was a deep void, empty.  ~~Begging to be filled.~~ He was used to the empty feeling, after experiencing it for years. It just made him frown at times, if it was really clawing at him.

 _After I kill 'Lance', I will get a small break. Perhaps I will reclean my gun and polish, it's been long overdo._ Keith thought to himself, staring down the sights of the gun.

And, out of nowhere, his target opened the door and ran out. Keith reacted quickly. As quickly as he was programmed to.

**Click.**


	3. First Failure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't sleep very well last night, so I decided to update. There's nothing better than a new chapter to a fanfic.

Keith watched the bullet fly out of the chamber and towards his target with a blank stare. He has watched this happen so many times before. He felt nothing but the slight jolt of the recoil against his shoulder, and even that was faint and unnoticeable.

The silver bullet spun, creating more speed as it flew towards Lance. At any second, his body would limply fall over, and Keith would escape the scene. Until then, Keith waited around. He enjoyed watching them die, to prove that he could do anything without remorse. It comforted him. Reminding him that it worked. His emotions were gone. 

But Lance never fell over limply. The bullet never flew through his head and splattered blood. That never happened. He moved out of the way just at the split second, and wind whipped past his brown hair. Keith couldn't believe it. Keith never missed a shot because he never hesitated when he saw his victim. It was a smooth transition.

This was different. Keith nervously licked over his suddenly dry lips as the bullet hit the wall. His heart was pounding unexpectedly, and his hands felt clammy. For the night time, it felt as if it was getting darker. Keith was panicking for the first time in years.

_I saw him, and pulled the trigger. I saw him, and pulled the trigger. There was no hesitation. I never hesitate. I have never hesitated in my life! Why now? Why would I suddenly start now, after having a golden record and the most perfect kills in the entire agency? It doesn't add up. Perhaps something is going wrong with me._ Keith mentally argued with himself.

He carefully sat up and took in a shaky breath. He had blanked out, and now his target was now gone. Keith reached to his phone, which was carefully put at his waist for emergencies. Keith considered this an emergency.

It was hard for him to unlock it, then to type in Shiro's phone number. He couldn't get his hands to stop trembling. Another thing that hasn't happened to him for years.  _Am I losing my mind now? I'm hardly an adult!_ Keith panicked, calling Shiro.

It rang five times, and each time it rang, Keith's heart sped up. Was he having an anxiety attack? He hasn't had one of those in a while. The last time he actually had one was when he was a child, and even then, that was a mild one. 

"Keith, did you do it? Is McClain dead?" Shiro's voice emitted from the phone. Heavy relief washed over Keith, and he hated himself for basking in the small, brief amount of relief. He shouldn't be depending on others, he has never done that!

"Well, I--it's difficult to say--I had an accident. I didn't... well, I don't... something happened... I lost track of McClain..." Keith stammered, his teeth biting at his bottom lip. "I can't explain it... Shiro, I'm... something is wrong with me! I can... it's so clear, I can feel it." He whispered quietly into his phone, feeling as if he might get killed for even whispering it.

"Shiro, I... I failed."

There was a long pause on the other hand. During Keith's rant, Shiro didn't interject once. For having no emotions, Shiro was quite patient with Keith. More than the other assassins working at the same place.

_Shiro... god, Shiro... this was a mistake. Please. Give me another chance. Forgive me. I can't lose this. I can't lose another family._

"Get back to headquarters, we can discuss this... complication there. Right now, you're exposed and could potentially be caught." Shiro said gruffly, almost whispering to him. "I'll expect to see you in the next twenty minutes. Understand?"

Keith understood crystal clear. You never argued with a direct order. Especially an order from Shiro.

"Right away, sir. See you soon." Keith murmured, before hanging up hastily. 

* * *

Lance felt wind whip past the back of his head. It came out of nowhere and startled him. He turned around to see what happened, but was instantly distracted by the sound of metal hitting the wall near him.

It was stupid to investigate, but curiosity got the best of him. Lance took a few steps forward and examined the metal. It didn't take long for him to realize what it was. 

It was bullet.

And it was meant for him.

That was always a good signal to hurry home. Lance took off running, glancing around quickly. His heart was pounding furiously in his chest, feeling as if it might burst.

His legs burned and his lungs screamed for him to stop after he ran the mile to get home, but he couldn't. He couldn't take any risks with someone out to kill him. 

_Life has just got a little more dangerous, mama, papa. I hope you'll believe me when I tell you._

 


	4. The Past is Dark and Grim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will most likely contain self harm and other scarring issues. If you are easily triggered, I'd advise against reading this chapter.

_Keith has always been alone. When he was only five years old, he saw his father break a beer bottle over his own head and walk out the front door. He was nauseated from the pain itself, and had no energy to chase after his father. This has happened a lot with Keith. His father had his rageful moments that resulted in Keith getting hurt. Either emotionally or physically._

_His father hated Keith and blamed him on everything that went wrong in their life. He said that Keith was the reason he took up drinking, and that he was the reason that he got beat up every night. That he did something wrong, that his existence was wrong. That... that he needed to be punished for wasting the precious air that the earth shouldn't even bother giving him._

_Keith believed it, too. He truly believed that be was a burden to his father and his family. Every night he'd curl up on the kitchen floor--the only area he was permitted to sleep at--and sob until his throat gave out. He truly believed that he was ruining everything and wanted to die for it, but even doing that would be a burden to something that Keith didn't know. He just wanted to be free of causing people pain._

_He was only a kid at the time when his father whipped his back until it was raw and bloody._

_He was only a kid at the time when his father broke his wrist for touching the TV remote without permission._

~~_He was only a kid when his father stole his innocence by bending him over and touching him in ways that Keith knew existed. In ways that Keith thought we're immature and disgusting. He could never scrub hard enough, the feeling of his father's sweat dripping onto his back as his small body was pressed against the cold floor. Keith couldn't dig off enough skin to be free from that. To be free._ ~~

 

* * *

_"Keith fucking Kogane! Get your damned ass in here right now or you'll have to crawl around for months from you're broken legs!" His father roared from living room. Keith felt like breaking down. Today was his sixth birthday, but he wouldn't get to celebrate it. No, he'd be trapped inside, cleaning and serving under his father. One mistake and he'd get beat, either by his belt or cane._

_Keith took in a deep breath and slowly opened the bathroom door. Blood dripping down from his wrists. His loosely fitting and oversized shirt would cover the actual marks, but his blood trail would tell his father everything he'd need to know. It took all of Keith's will power to walk to the living room without sobbing horribly._

_"Y-Yes, sir?" Keith asked, his blood dripping onto the ugly, green carpet they had. It reminded Keith of vomit, and he dreaded every second he had to see its ugly color. "What did you need?" He asked, making sure his voice wasn't snotty or rude._

_His father noticed the blood immediately. Keith feared that he would._

_"What the hell happened to you? Why are you bleeding!?" His father yelled, but it was from concern for his son. It was anger. Keith hardly felt the slap that caused him to collapse onto the vomit colored carpet._

_Keith had to think his words through carefully, or he might start sobbing in fear. "I... I got cut. I was trying to clean it up but you called for me, sir, a-and I didn't want to delay you if you need something important, so I--" Keith started, but never got to finish his sentence due to his father kicking him sharply in the ribs. He felt disoriented and close to vomiting himself. The pain caused his vision to create black spots._

_"You are not allowed to get fucking hurt unless I do it to you, you fucking--" His father hissed, venom flowing from his words as he kicked Keith's ribs again, but with a lot more force. Keith was going blind from the pain, he had to force himself to stay conscious, or this would get uglier. "How dare you disrespect me like this?!" His father screamed, kicking Keith onto his back. "I give you a house, clothing, and food, and yet, you still have the fucking gall to--to--"_

_Keith whimpered._

_He didn't have to see to know that his father's belt was coming off. The ring of metal was just enough to shattered his hope and anything he had left to himself._

_"You... fucking... brat!" His father cursed, the first strike of the leather hit Keith's face. Tears filled his purple eyes, but Keith didn't let them spill. No. He wouldn't give his father the satisfaction of crying. Not yet._

_The second strike hit Keith in his neck._

_The third hit his chest._

_The fourth his stomach._

_The fifth did the same._

_The strikes kept on coming and coming until his stomach was red and puffy, blood and bruises all over. Keith tried so hard not to let his tears fall, but now he was sobbing uncontrollably. Begging for one day that one hit will be the one to end his misery._

_He cannot wait until the day comes._

 


	5. Mama, Papa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not feeling very well (mentally or physically), but I don't want to forget about updating, so I may be rushing this. If so, I apologize for the poor chapter and will make better work in the future.

Keith hurried back to HQ, jumping from building and building. His feet ached from all of the moving around, but he couldn't stop. A failure of an assassination was big news in the Galra, and wasn't a light offense. Keith could get shot, branded, or treated even worse for this failure, considering his perfect background. He can only imagine the gossip flying around HQ as he's running there.

_Why do you care about what they think, Keith? You're the best assassin the Galra have, they won't kill you. You are overreacting for no reason. This will probably end with a slap on a wrist and warning, that's all. They wouldn't risk tarnishing such a flawless assassin such as yourself, even if they are burning with rage._

Keith tried to believe his own thoughts, but there was still a rock setting deep in his stomach. A failure was still a failure to him, and it made him feel weak.  ~~Pitiful.~~ And if Keith Kogane was anything, it would not be weak, pitiful, or a failure. He is the best of the best, the most heartless, the most accurate.

So, why is it that his depressing thoughts are clawing at him now?

Keith jumped and rolled onto a roof, the suit that he was wearing didn't tear or even pull uncomfortably, but his knees still felt all of the contact. A bruise will surely form in the morning, maybe even a couple of cuts will appear to, if he is unlucky.

But, like all assassins in the Galra, Keith won't have his wounds attended to. That is a sign of weakness in itself. When an assassin gets a wound taken care of--whether he does it himself or not--he is shunned for months for showing a sign of weakness that all of the assassins aren't supposed to have. They're supposed to be tough, ruthless, and cruel with their victims.

So, Keith would live with a couple of bruises on his knees. He just has to live with the shame of failing to kill a target.

Failing to kill Lance McClain, in particular.

Out of a quick spike of anger, Keith bit down on his lip as he stood up straight. His canines ripped into his bottom lip, and warm blood started to flow down her chin slowly. This was all of Lance's fault, when it comes down to it. Keith's targets were always easy to kill, and even if they were unpredictable, he could always kill them. Lance must've known someone sent a bounty over his head, and avoided Keith's bullet.

_That. Fucker._ Keith thought angrily to himself, trying to calm his spiking anger as he looked up at the Galra HQ. He would grapple to the top and sneak in effortlessly, as a means to have an element of surprise.  _He just fucked over my entire career, and I bet he's fucking happy about it. I should've fucking choked him to death instead!_

The boiling anger made Keith feel alive. Grappling up to the roof had never felt this good to him. He felt a sliver of what it's like to be a human in so long. The feeling was good, but Keith wanted it to be gone so he could hunt after Lance again. The anger burned away his fear and anxiety of losing his job.

Whether he lost his job as an assassin or not, his last wish would be to make sure that Lance McClain is no longer alive. That will be the very last thing he will do, even if he does it with his last breath.

And that's not a threat, it's a promise.

* * *

Lance ran inside the front door of his house, sweat dripping down his neck and back from running. He couldn't have stopped, though, or he could've been killed by whatever was trying to kill him in the first place.

Taking his first steps in, he nearly collapsed when he saw the brown leather couch, but willed himself to move forward.

"Mama! Papa!  _¡Ayuda!_ " Lance yelled, his voice shaky from his jog home. He was too busy catching his breath to bother to stabilize it. There wouldn't have been any point in the first place. 

His mother was the first one to descend from the stairs. Her brown hair was fastened behind her head in a tight bun, with a couple of strands of hair resting in front of her face. She had a green face mask, a tradition that all of the McClain's did before bed.

Lance would've smiled at that, but he was almost killed, and lost his happiness.

"Mama, I was shot! Somebody is trying to come after me and kill me!" Lance said, stumbling towards her and grabbing her shoulders. "The bullet would've killed me, if they didn't miss! I fear next time I won't be so lucky..."

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean you were shot?! When did this happen? Who do I have to kill, those _bastardos_!" She yelled angrily, showing her concern for her son. Quickly, she smoothed back his hair. "Are you okay? Were you followed? Your dad does have his shotgun, still, so if anyone comes back, we will be ready."

Lance shook his head. "No, no, I don't know if I was followed, since I ran here. I think it's best if I don't leave the house for the bit." He said, slightly disappointed. "However, now I'll have to cancel plans with Katie and Hunk..."

"Nonsense! I'll call the police right now." His mother said, grabbing the home phone and dialing 911.

Lance would try and stop her, but that would be a foolish decision on his part. You never mess with the McClain kids, or you'll get mama bear. He just silently prayed that this wouldn't be spread all over the world.

 


End file.
